The Unlived Life

We find a place at the hospital to park; the cop pulls in right beside us. I look at my good hand and it’s shaking like a leaf in a tornado. I don’t want to be here. I just want to be by myself. I look at mom with a nervous grimace. She looks at my shaking hand.

“Deep breaths, Dan. Three deep breaths, right now.”

I do what she says, taking deep breaths and focusing on the burning in my throat, closing my eyes. When I open my eyes, I see the police officer at my window. He stands with an authoritative stance, arms folded over his chest, just like earlier. When he sees that I’m looking at him, he opens my door and waits for me to get out; I try not to bump my broken hand, which has now swollen through the gauze. As I stand up, he shuts my door. Mom shuts hers too.

“You can leave, now, Officer Beasley. I can take it from here.” Mom says with an agitated voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that until I see that he has been taken into a room. I don’t trust him.”

“I’m sorry, but I do. He is not going to go on a rampage and try to kill everyone in the waiting room.”

“Ms. Sims, if you continue to be combative, I will have no choice but to put you into handcuffs.” Officer Beasley says, ending the argument.

Mom heads first into the emergency room, followed by myself and the officer close behind me. The automatic doors open, and I stop dead in my tracks. Mom looks behind her back at me and the officer puts his hand on the taser once more. Mom holds up a hand to stop him. She walks up to me and gently rests her hand on my face.

“It’s okay.” She whispers to me. “It’s just a broken hand. We will be out of here before you know it.”

I take a deep breath and start walking again. As we reach the front desk, mom signs the list for me. I would have signed it if my hand wasn’t broken. The officer steps up to the window as mom and I sit in a couple of chairs in the corner of the waiting room. He’s whispering something to the woman behind the glass. The woman gives Officer Beasley some papers and a clipboard. He walks up to us and hands mom the clipboard.

“Fill this out and she will call you and send you back.”

She does what she’s told without any arguments. There are about ten pages, front to back. I notice, as she flips from page to page, some of the items. Insurance, family history, then at the very end, the last page, a mental health questionnaire. I wonder why that is in there. My vision suddenly goes white, and my head feels like it is going to explode. I feel myself put my head between my legs, so I won’t fall. I scream in pain and can vaguely hear mom say something.

“Don’t do anything! For God’s sake, it’s just a migraine! He’s been getting them ever since the car accident we were in last month. Get a bucket or something, he throws up sometimes afterwards.”

When I can see again, I notice mom holding a blue vomit bag. She immediately hands it to me. I feel nauseous so I quickly grab the bag with my good hand just in time to spew more stomach acid. I lean my head back and try to catch my breath. The officer looks at me with concern but doesn’t say anything. I feel so weak I can’t even lift my arm. Mom hands the stack of papers to the officer and has him go back up to the front. The receptionist types several things on her computer, then comes to me with a hospital band. She kneels and gently lifts my good arm, wraps the band around my wrist, and dispose of the vomit bag.

My stomach growls so loudly both the officer and mom look at me. Mom suddenly realizes that I haven’t had anything to eat today.

“I’ll be right back.” She tells me, and I know she’s going to find a vending machine. The officer eyes me every time I move. Not long after mom leaves, she comes back with a pack of crackers. By this time, I have enough energy to open them and take a bite. Noticing my hunger pangs, I start eating faster; I consume the entire pack of crackers in under two minutes. Just then, I see a nurse walk through the double doors and call my name. Mom gets up first and helps me on my feet. The officer finally leaves, and I feel like I can breathe a little easier.

The triage nurse takes me down a long hallway and takes a left to the first room; my vital signs are taken once more. When she does this, she writes on a clipboard and proceeds to hang it on the door. She looks at mom and motions for her to follow her through the door. Mom pats my leg to let me know she will be right back. Now that I am completely alone for the first time today, I start to nervously shake my leg. The reality of what I did starts to hit me like a ton of bricks. I could be in jail right now. I start to notice my breath getting faster so I focus on something else. I hear mom talking to the nurse.

“So, tell me what’s been going on with your son lately. Has he ever been this violent before?”

“No, never. He has always been quite calm. But lately, for the past six weeks, he’s become a different person. He’s been quiet, distant, getting poor grades in school.”

“What happened six weeks ago?”

“We were in a head-on collision. His dad died on impact and Dan had a fractured shin and a concussion.”

“I see. Well, I’ve seen what he did to the student that came in before him. He has a broken nose, a broken jaw, and several cuts to his face. His eyes are swollen shut. If your son didn’t stop when he did, it could have resulted in death.”

Mom peaks in on me and realizes I have been listening. I bring my knees up and place my hand over my knee with my head on my arm. I can’t take seeing mom like this. I can’t take what I did. It is not me. I try to hold it in, but I can’t. My body shakes all over. I fight back tears in the same way as I did at dad’s funeral. I don’t want to hear any more of their conversation, but I can’t drown it out.

“Ms. Sims, what I would suggest, if I may, is that we keep your son in our in-patient psychiatric unit for three days to evaluate him. Would you be willing to agree to that?”

Please say no! God, mom, please say no! I beg to myself.

“Are you sure that’s what he needs?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Especially considering his severe outburst at school. We need to be sure this is just an isolated incident.”

I start to hyperventilate.

“Alright, I’ll consent.” I hear mom say.

The nurse and mom walk in just then and see that I’m freaking out. Mom sees the fire in my eyes and stays back. She looks scared. I reach my good hand up and start pulling my hair and trying not to scream. I start shaking my head as the nurse loads a syringe with more clear liquid.

“Please, mom, don’t do this to me! I’m not crazy! Why would you do this to me? I swear I won’t do anything else!” I scream, tears rolling down my face like waterfalls.

“I’m so sorry, Dan. I have no other options.” She pleads, tears rolling down her as well.

I feel the needle stick into my arm and in a few seconds, I’m swimming in my head. Why would she lock me up? Why would she do this to me? Why would she abandon me like this? The paramedic that was with me this morning walks in with the materials for my cast. Mom and the triage nurse leave the room to sign consent forms. I look at the nurse through blurry eyes, blink the tears out of them, and look at her again. She has a warm smile on her face.

“Remember me?” She says. I can only nod. “I see they gave you a bit more sedative than I would have.”

I just stare at her, my mind trying to get my mouth to move. I make a sound that resembles a question and for some miraculous reason, she understands what I’m saying.

“My name is Liz.” She starts wrapping my hand and wrist with blue material. I wince a little through the pain. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be as gentle as I can. I hear you have to go upstairs for a few days. It will be okay. The staff up there is very nice, the counselors are caring, and the doctor is amazing! You don’t need to worry about a thing, Dan.” I just stare at her.

I watch Liz until she finishes putting the cast on my hand. As she gets up to leave, I put my good hand on her arm and try to say something.

“Get mom,” was all I could manage to say.

“I can do that. Someone from upstairs will come in shortly and ask you some questions.”

I lay my head back and put my knees down; they feel like Jell-o. Mom comes back in after several minutes and sits in a chair on my left side. She grabs my good hand and I squeeze hers gently. My way of apologizing.

“I know, Dan. I know.” She tells me.

We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity and then the nurse from upstairs comes in to talk to me. I look at mom and point with my eyes, trying to telepathically tell her to stay with me.

“I’m not leaving.” She assures me.

“Hi, Dan. My name is Kelly. Do you mind if I ask you a few things?”

I shake my head.

“I see you’ve been given some sedative, so if you can just nod or shake your head, okay?”

I nod.

“So, I see you’re sixteen, is this correct?”

I nod.

“Have you been depressed?”

I nod.

“Suicidal?”

I shake my head vigorously, though to be honest, the thought has crossed my mind.

“Have you ever had a violent outburst in the past or any trouble with anger management?”

I shake my head.

“We are going to get to the bottom of your problems over the next few days, Dan. We have a very well-educated staff that will work with you to help you figure out why you’ve been acting like this.”

I nod.

The nurse tells me to say goodbye to mom because they are about to take me upstairs. I squeeze mom’s hand and she kisses my forehead.

“Call me as soon as you can. I love you.” She says with tears welling up in her eyes. I nod and watch her leave the room.

As soon as she leaves, a large black man in blue scrubs comes in with a wheelchair. The man helps me out of bed and into the chair, unlocks it, and starts pushing me out of the room. I hang my head and look at my shoes. Down a long hallway and to the left I am wheeled. He stops me at an elevator and pushes the button. It opens instantly and we go inside. I watch his finger touch the number three. The door closes and I get that weird feeling in my stomach as the elevator races up to the third floor. As the elevator stops, my stomach drops again, and the doors open.

I am wheeled down a smaller hallway and stop at a door. The large black man knocks on the door and is buzzed in; he opens the door just enough for the chair to slide in, then closes it back. It’s like an entirely different hospital up here. I see many teenagers in the hallway, some looking at me, others taking medication. I am wheeled to the front desk and parked ass the large nurse tells the two nurses sat the desk who I am. One nurse gives me a warm smile while the other one pulls a file.

“Place him in the holding area so he can sleep off that sedative.”

I am taken a few steps into a solid white room with a single bed. The nurse stops me, locks the chair, and helps me to the bed. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

The flashing lights are blinding by the time I am conscious. I am in so much pain right now that I wish I was dead. I am stuck, sprawled across both seats in the back. I call out to mom and dad.

“MOM!” I don’t see her anywhere or hear her. A paramedic comes over to the passenger window which is broken.

“It’s okay, your mom is fine. She’s in the ambulance being bandaged.”

I look at dad and he’s not moving. His head is hanging down with blood steadily pouring out of his mouth.

“DAD!” I cry. I cry so hard in anguish that I soon start to lose consciousness. I could barely make out the sound of the paramedic’s voice.

“We’re going to get you out of here, it’ll be okay!”

I wake up disoriented and start to panic. A woman in blue scrubs comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. I back away from her, guarded.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the psychiatric unit of Wichita General Hospital. Did you sleep well?”

I look at my broken hand and start to remember.

“You missed dinner, but everyone is in the recreation room for an evening group session. There are three group meetings a day and everyone is required to be there.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost seven. So, get up and I’ll show you where it is.”

I swing my legs off the bed and rub my eyes. She patiently waits for me to stand, then leads me across the hall to a room that is set up like a living room. There are matching sofa and chairs in the back of the room and a few metal folding chairs surrounding a round table. There are nine other teenagers, some girls, some guys. They look at me as I sit down at the chair set for me. I lean back in the chair, stretch my legs out and fold my arms over my chest.

I nervously shake my leg and breathe deeply so I won’t lash out. The nurse looks around the room and smiles.

“Now that we’re all here, why don’t we start off by introducing ourselves, since we have someone new to the group. I’ll go first. My name is Roxy, and I am one of the counselors here.”

She looks to her left, signaling for the next person. They all start talking in turn. There was Angel, Heather, Lexi, Jennifer, Derek, Anthony, Jose, Jack, and Alex. The nurse looks at me when it’s my turn.

“Dan.” I reluctantly speak.

“Welcome to the group, Dan. Would anyone like to start the group? Does anyone have anything they’d like to say to Dan?”

“What happened to your hand?” Jose was the first to speak.

“Okay, that’s a very good question.” Nurse Roxy says enthusiastically.

“I beat someone to a pulp and broke my hand. He broke more.”

“Wow, so you’re like a psychopath or something?” Derek says.

I look at him with fire in my eyes.

“Derek, that wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

I shut down and stop talking, drowning everyone out as they talk about random things. I don’t want to be here. All I can think about is finding a way to escape. The group session is over, and I hear my name.

“Dan, would you like to say anything else before we end the group?”

I shake my head.

Well then, I guess you guys can go now. Dan, your roommate is Derek. He will show you to your room.”

I look at the nurse with eyes as big as tennis balls.

“Change it,” I speak through my teeth, starting to feel my blood pressure rising.

“Unfortunately, it will have to be tomorrow before we can talk about changing rooms.”

“You don’t know me. I’m not sharing a room with this asshole!” I start to raise my voice.

“I’m sorry but that’s where you are assigned.”

Derek has a sinister smirk on his face, and I can’t hold my anger back. I get out of my chair, pushing it back with my foot. Before the male nurses come in, I punch Derek so hard he falls to the floor. Then I am tackled by the large black nurse.